I should be downstairs, waiting like a normal person. Instead, I’m pacing the narrow hallway of my apartment, towel clutched tight, nerves sparking under my skin like dry kindling begging for a match.
I don’t know what possessed me to come upstairs. Maybe it was the way Ghost looked at me.
Like I mattered.
Like I washis.
Maybe it was the way my body hasn’t stopped buzzing since. Like I’m a live wire waiting to snap.
The apartment above Wild Petals is small but homey. Worn hardwood floors, secondhand furniture, a dozen half-finished stuffed animals peeking out of a basket near the couch. A shelf of cookbooks I almost never use and more candles than any one person should legally own.
And still, it’s the bathroom mirror that holds me captive. I stare at my reflection like I’m trying to see what he sees.
Towel wrapped around my curvy body, damp curls clinging to my shoulders, skin flushed from the hot shower.
I close my eyes and press a palm over my belly.
I thought the shower would help. Cool me down. It didn’t.
All I can think about ishim.
The way he saidmy name.
The feel of his knuckles onmy cheek. The promise in his voice when he told me I was his.
No one’s ever looked at me like that before. Like they see every messy, soft, too-much part of me and want it anyway.
I slip my hand lower, beneath the towel, into the damp heat between my thighs. I gasp at the touch, my own fingers feeling foreign, hesitant. I never did this before.
But then I imagine it’s his hand. His rough, calloused fingers.He’d be patient. He’d tease me until I was begging.
My fingers move faster, circles that make me arch my back, a whimper catching in my throat.
In my mind, it’s not my hand at all. It’s his. Rough and sure. His voice a dark growl at my ear, telling me I’m his, again and again, until the words sink deeper than skin.
I imagine him pinning me against the wall, mouth claiming mine, hips tight to mine, that solid strength pressing me open until I break.
“Ghost,” I whisper, as if the walls could swallow the sound, as if saying his name might summon him.
I can almost hear his voice in my ear.That’s it, sunshine. Let me feel you.
The tension coils inside me, a spring winding tighter, tighter… until it snaps.
Pleasure crashes through me, curling deep in my belly. I gasp his name as it hits. The towel loosens as I slump forward against the counter, heart pounding, legs weak.
Maybe I don’t have experience, but I know what it feels like to want.
I’m catching my breath, warm and wrecked, when a sharp knock splits the silence.
I freeze.
Ghost?
My stomach swoops. I straighten, tightening the towel around me, still breathless and flushed.
Another knock. Louder. More impatient.
I pad barefoot to the door, hesitating before cracking it open.
